


Dead Honeymoon

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A discussion between Bones and Spock in the mess hall that probably shouldn’t be in the mess hall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a quick thought in my head that had to be shared.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Leonard’s enjoying a perfectly good pasta dish in the mess hall when the far door opens, and he knows immediately who it is. 

There isn’t a single officer on board with a gate like Spock’s. The even footfalls come closer and closer, and Leonard drops his fork to his plate, knowing that it isn’t just going to be a little lunch date. Spock doesn’t come down for lunch dates unless he has something ‘human’ to discuss over a ‘human’ custom.

Inevitably, he takes a seat at the long table across from Leonard, no tray or Synthesized food in sight. The table is otherwise empty, and though the mess hall’s far from it, no one stops to bother them; the two of them together are a well known sight, and most of the Enterprise crew is smart enough to stay away from their constant close-call fireworks. 

Leonard, evidently, isn’t so smart. He pushes his plate back and crosses his arms, asking, “What is it now, hobgoblin?”

“That is a fitting example of what ‘it is,’ Doctor.” Spock waits a few seconds in which Leonard says nothing, because there has to be a better explanation than that, and then Spock continues, hands clasped on the table and posture utterly perfect, “I have been researching human mating rituals, and I have come to the conclusion that you and I have been involved long enough for the requisite ‘honeymoon period’ to be considered over.”

Well, that wasn’t what Leonard was expecting. He can’t help glancing aside, but no one’s paying them any notice. He half wishes Jim would come down and distract them both; trying to discuss ‘human mating rituals’ with Spock is something like having a jam session with a crab. “So you’re concerned we’re not all sunshine and roses anymore?”

Spock lifts an eyebrow, and Leonard, like usual, has to regret his natural inclination towards metaphors. “We are a long way from what you would consider sunshine, and it has been considerable time since either of us has gifted the other roses. I hardly see what either has to do with my statement.”

“You’ve never given me roses.”

“That is incorrect. I presented you with two roses on our third date.”

Leonard scrunches his face, trying to think back, then decides firmly, “Those weren’t roses.”

“They were the Vulcan equivalent.”

Leonard snorts. “And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Whatever you intended to do with Earth roses.”

Leonard drops his head into one hand, shakes it, and rubs his eyes. He gets sidetracked so easily—it’s a wonder they ever got to a second date at all. When he looks up again, he sighs, “So our honeymoon phase is over. What does that matter?”

Here, Spock’s face tightens a little. It’s a very subtle shift in expression that Leonard would miss if he didn’t spend so much time just staring at Spock. Experience has taught him well. He guesses that ‘honeymoon phase’ isn’t a concept Spock full grasps, even though he was the one to put it forward. He hesitates, slightly flexing his fingers before deciding aloud, “It is my understanding that after this time, a person’s quirks may become... unpleasant to their mate.” He looks up sharply, straight at Leonard’s eyes. “As you are important to me, I wish to know which features of mine bring you displeasure, so that I may attempt to correct them.”

Well. That was even less what Leonard was expecting. 

He spends half a minute blinking and fluctuating between happy at a chance to nitpick Spock and uncomfortable that they’re having this conversation in the mess hall. And he’d thought Vulcans were private about their love lives. Either Spock doesn’t consider this issue particularly embarrassing, or he’s more human than Leonard gives him credit for. 

For lack of anything else, Leonard grunts, “Your ears?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I do not believe that is the case. Please relay the next issue.”

“What’d you mean you don’t believe it?” What was a simple joke turns quickly into a personal beef, as Spock so often does to him, and Leonard demands, “Look, you wanted me to list your flaws and I gave you one. Who are you to say that I don’t have a problem with your ears?”

Here Spock does look around them. They’re too far away for anyone to overhear them, especially over the general chatter that’s always in the mess hall, but Spock still keeps his voice low when he tells Leonard, leaning slightly forward over the table, “Due to your behaviour with my ears when we are in the bedroom, I cannot believe that you dislike them. If you did, why would you caress them with both your tongue and fingers more often than any other part of my body?”

Because he might have a Vulcan fetish, or at least a Spock one? Leonard turns a little red, and he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. Maybe sheer indignity that’s somewhere in between. “Alright then,” he mutters, “What about _your_ fingers? And that stupid Vulcan caress thing you do with them?”

Spock remains blank-faced and quiet. “I do not believe you dislike my hands any more than my ears.” 

Leonard grumbles, “Come on!”

“Without prompting, you have performed a number of oral practices on my fingers meant to derive pleasure on more than one occasion. Therefore, you must not dislike my hands. Furthermore, you have told me I have quite ‘skilled’ hands, which, I believe, is a compliment to them.”

Now Leonard’s glaring. That’s how their conversations always seem to end. “You’re irritating.”

“That is not a specific enough suggestion.”

“Alright, I hate you and your damn logic.”

Both eyebrows go up this time, and Leonard is smoothly informed, “As you have told me that you love me in more sincere tones, I must divert to that and assume your ‘hatred’ is simply a temporary expression of irritation. As for my logic, that is a philosophy of my people and hardly a personal quirk that I may change. If I were not logical, I would not be myself, and thusly you would be dating an entirely different person.”

Because he can be grumpy when he’s cornered, Leonard grumbles, “But I’d still get to fuck your body.” Which is sort of a roundabout way of trying to both hurt Spock and express that he doesn’t hate Spock, or at least, he thinks Spock’s handsome. But he’s not going to take the hate comment back.

“Yes, I believe I have ascertained that you find me aesthetically pleasing. Is there anything else you wish for me to change?”

Leonard sighs. He basically has to admit that Spock’s right; if Spock were any less frustrating he wouldn’t be _Spock_.

And then, Leonard thinks, he wouldn’t have all that aggression to pour into the bedroom, and that certainly is half the fun of their relationship sometimes. To be honest, the argument’s getting him a bit riled up right now.

Other times, he solidly wants to either wring Spock’s neck or kiss him senseless. 

Today he just wants to finish his pasta before he goes back to sickbay, and he doesn’t have time to fool around. It occurs to him to ask, “Is there anything _you_ want _me_ to change?” And then it hits him that that could very well be the reason for all of this in the first place. 

When no eyebrows lift, Leonard knows he’s hit the nail on the head. Spock looks to the side as he says, “As you have asked, and it is only in the interest of preserving our relationship, I suppose it is my duty to inform you that simply because you have already obtained a man you find suitable is no reason to neglect shaving.” He abruptly pushes back from the table, standing up and clasping his hands behind his back like he so often does. “Even on your days off, I do not expect to find stubble on you.” And he nods politely, turning to head for the door. 

Leonard is left stunned, feeling blindly at his chin, which, as far as he can tell, couldn’t have more than a few millimeters of stubble. 

Then another thought hits him, and he yells at Spock’s back, half a meter from the door, “Hey, I didn’t get to say something wrong with you!”

Spock’s back stiffens, and he stops, looking over his shoulder. 

Now everyone really is looking at them.

Spock informs him calmly, voice forced to be raised over the dying chatter of the few officers who haven’t stopped to stare at them, “We will discuss this after our shifts. I will meet you in your quarters.” Which is just as good as saying, ‘we will discuss this in bed.’ And even then, ‘discuss’ is a loose term.

Which Leonard supposes is a victory, because he thinks, despite how hard he is personally on Spock, most people would consider Leonard lucky. 

As Spock leaves through the self-opening doors, Leonard does have to admit that after all, he _is_ very handsome. 

And irritating and green-blooded, but at least mostly the boyfriend Leonard wants.

Stupid ears and all.


End file.
